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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110431">like a comet pulled from orbit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyheartrbs/pseuds/mistyheartrbs'>mistyheartrbs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/F, Gen, Season/Series 01, mostly - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:49:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyheartrbs/pseuds/mistyheartrbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The inaugural meeting of William McKinley High School's GayLesbAll goes in several directions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Berry &amp; Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like a comet pulled from orbit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so i started watching glee for the first time a few weeks ago and i...kind of love it? but also rachel suggesting that she and kurt form a "gaylesball" in 1x12 and then that never coming up again haunted me, especially because they both have immense gsa kid energies. </p><p>so this is what happened</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was legend among the students of William McKinley High School that nobody had the exact number of classrooms, that building plans had either never existed or had been destroyed at some point, deemed too powerful for mortal eyes.</p><p>All of this to say that nobody really knew where Classroom 110 was, until they did, until Rachel Berry sat with her hands folded at a scratched-up table in front of a platter of snacks large enough to probably feed most of the school, or at least its likely-sizable population of community members. </p><p>“I think I saw a senior on the signup list,” Kurt noted, flipping through the same color-coded set of notes he’d been studying for the past twenty minutes. Lunch period was almost up. It had taken enough finagling to get this timeslot to begin with - something about Coach Sylvester and her unrelenting attacks on the Glee Club had culminated in a close call that involved the GayLesbAll almost happening in the choir room at the same time. </p><p>In the very end, they’d ended up taking this little classroom tucked away in the corner of a hallway next to the copy machine, the kind of room that would perhaps generously be described as a <em>dungeon.</em> </p><p>“Who?” Rachel asked, prying open a packet of chips, careful not to disrupt the rest of the display. </p><p>“Susie something.” </p><p>“Suzy Pepper?”</p><p>“That might’ve been it.” More note-flipping. Rachel knew each bullet point on that list, had written it up herself. Introductions, a cute and non-threatening icebreaker, an equally cute and non-threatening inquiry into everyone’s orientation (optional, she stressed, mostly because she wouldn’t say anything herself), and then laying out plans for the rest of the year. A musical number at the end, if there was time for it. “You know her?”</p><p>“In a manner of speaking.” Rachel stared down at the desk. Someone had scratched their initials into it at some point, then scratched them out, then scratched them in again directly above the initial scratches. Kurt’s eyebrows shot up.</p><p>“Oh?” </p><p>“Not like that.” Because she was doing this, of course, as an <em>ally.</em> The <em>all</em> part of the <em>GayLesbAll.</em> Though there’d been some confusion about where the capitalization went in the name - hence the sizable pile of rainbow-striped basketballs (courtesy of Brittany) sitting in the corner. So far they were the only other guests beyond the two co-presidents and the snack table. Rachel briefly considered drawing little faces on them, then decided that that could wait until next week. </p><p>“It would certainly make <em>my</em> life easier if that were true…”</p><p>“It’s not about that,” Rachel hissed. The copy machine beeped again. “I am <em>broadening my horizons</em> and honoring my two gay dads and <em>also</em> ensuring that my extracurricular page on college applications is reasonably full.” </p><p>“Whatever you say.” Kurt marked something down on the clipboard. “Then where’s the <em>lez</em> part of <em>GayLesbAll?”</em></p><p>“Well. We’re hoping there’ll be someone. There’s got to be at least one gay girl in this school, right? Statistically?” </p><p>Kurt muttered something that sounded a lot like <em>pretty sure I’m lookin’ at her</em> right before the door banged open and in stepped one Suzy Pepper. </p><p>“I’m a senior,” she said, before Rachel and Kurt could greet her. “Really, I should be in charge of this thing, based on seniority, especially considering my extra year here caused by…unfortunate circumstances. But I’ll be graduating in a few months and I thought I would dispense some advice to you singing cretins.” </p><p>“What’d you do to her?” Kurt whispered. </p><p>“Nothing that troubling!” Rachel whispered back. “We had one conversation!” </p><p>“And what did I tell you during that conversation?” Suzy leaned on the table and sent it teetering, stuffing chip packets into her bag. They’d gotten the worst tables, no doubt a result of Coach Sylvester’s meddling. One of them was held up by several tennis balls.</p><p>“Those are for you,” Kurt added. “You don’t have to steal them. Especially since this little experiment doesn’t seem to be going so well…” </p><p>“It’s not worth it!” Suzy continued. “You’ve got to take what you want - what you <em>truly</em> want, not what you’ve hidden yourself behind for fear of actually facing rejection from a legitimate romantic possibility - and grab it by the <em>scruff of its cheerleadery little neck.</em> There’s still time for you.” Suzy started to back away, feeling for the doorknob as she did so. </p><p>“Time for what?” Rachel was an excitable young woman. There were quite a lot of things that made her heart beat faster - performing, auditions, the feeling of warm printer paper holding sheet music - so of course it meant nothing at all that the sensation was happening right now. </p><p>“It’s a weird door,” Kurt offered. “You’ve got to hold it in place when you- okay, there you go. See you around!” He shooed her away politely, then turned back to Rachel. “Congratulations, Berry. You’ve managed to lose our only other member in a minute and a half.” </p><p>“What did <em>I</em> do?!” </p><p>“I don’t know! How did that ‘conversation’ in the ‘bathroom’ go, anyway?”</p><p>“Well, for one, you don’t need to do air quotes, we <em>actually</em> talked in the bathroom-”</p><p>“So that’s what the ladies are calling it these days.”</p><p>“You know, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just <em>shut up,</em> you’re here for legitimacy because Principal Figgins said I couldn’t form a club with just one person-”</p><p>“Are we interrupting something?” asked the majority of the Glee Club, all of them waiting in the doorway, nobody quite willing to make the first step inside. </p><p>“Mr. Schue said we’d get extra credit if we showed up,” Mercedes explained. Brittany nodded approvingly at the basketball pile. </p><p>“Oh.” Rachel blinked, tried very hard not to make eye contact with Quinn, standing near the back of the group. There had to be something about the lighting that kept her glancing around everywhere but in her direction. No windows, too many fluorescents. It dried her out. “Well. There might not be enough spots for everyone.”</p><p>“We weren’t expecting anyone to actually show up,” Kurt added. Rachel elbowed him. Everyone squeezed in together, circled around the rickety table like knights or maybe politicians. Rachel straightened her posture, unfolded her hands and glanced at the clipboard once more, mostly for effect. She’d memorized everything on there. </p><p>“As co-president and the person whose lunch today has consisted <em>exclusively</em> of these chip packets because I had to get everything set up and couldn’t get to the cafeteria, I hereby call the inaugural meeting of Willam McKinley High School’s GayLesbAll to order.” </p><p>Brittany clapped politely. Santana pushed her hands down, and Rachel tried very hard not to pay attention to the way the two of them stayed in that position for longer than they needed to, hands on top of each other. This was the GayLesbAll, after all. It wouldn’t be much of a GayLesbAll without…well, it went without saying. </p><p>“First on the agenda, a democratic decision-making process.” </p><p>“We’re voting on what everyone wants to do here.” Kurt slid a chip packet into his coat pocket, snuck a glance at Finn. “But I’m pretty sure this one already has something.” </p><p>“Yes, thank you.” Rachel cleared her throat. “I think that we should dedicate at least two weeks to acknowledging the ongoing struggles that the community which we are all either a part of or allied with faces on a day-to-day basis. At this very moment, we- they- the <em>community</em> is facing adversity from hate groups dedicated to blocking us- them- <em>couples</em> from being recognized in the eyes of the law. I mean, it’s 2009! Shouldn’t we be past this? Five states-”</p><p>“Six,” Kurt muttered. </p><p><em>“Six</em> states have legislation in place in order to recognize gay marriages. But not Ohio! My two gay dads had to get married in <em>Massachusetts.</em> And if Kurt here were to fall madly in love with a boy in this school, he’d have to go somewhere else to have that relationship legitimized on paper. Or if I were to start dating…uh…” Rachel faltered. She’d only come up with notes in the sheet through the legislation. This was going very badly very quickly.</p><p>“Quinn?” Kurt offered, looking very much like the cat that caught the canary. Rachel felt it again - that quickening of her heartbeat usually reserved for particularly exciting choir room practices. </p><p><em>“Shut the hell up.”</em> </p><p>“Just a hypothetical. If you’re taking it personally then maybe you should take that up with a counselor.” </p><p>“Oh, like I’m going to stress Ms. Pillsbury out with <em>more</em> than she’s already-”</p><p>“Ahem.” Santana thumped one of the basketballs on the table, sending the entire thing rocking again. Quinn said nothing. “Is there any <em>other</em> reason we’re here? Or is it just going to be twenty more minutes of the two of you divas snapping at each other?”</p><p>“Well, the plan was to vote on any motions put forth by other members. So if there’s anything anyone wants to say…” Rachel was greeted, as she so often was, with silence from the peanut gallery. “Otherwise we can just talk, I guess? Or introduce ourselves.”</p><p>“We all know who you are already.” And there was Quinn from the back, and <em>sneering</em> wasn’t something actual people did all that often, but there wasn’t really anything else that could describe her tone, her lip curled back like a wolf about to strike, her arms crossed tight across her chest, her gaze hawk-sharp. Rachel’s knees wobbled in time with the table. </p><p>“It’s just what we have on the itinerary.” Rachel waggled the clipboard for emphasis. “In case other students showed up, or…” The front page came undone, then, and she watched as it looped through the air and landed on the other end of the table, right in front of Quinn, who slid it back. </p><p>“Just do the icebreakers or this thing is going down like a sinking ship on fire,” Kurt stage-whispered, and Rachel resisted the urge to swat him on the arm again. </p><p>“Right!” Rachel clapped, loudly enough that she was sure the sound would get caught in this little dungeon of a room for at least another five or six years. At least until some other unlucky and emotionally confused sod decided to parse out her feelings through song and dance and uncomfortably long monologues. “So, posing this to everyone: if you were a kitchen appliance, what would you be, and why?” </p><p>“I’d be an egg whisk,” Kurt said, and then said nothing else. Brittany stared at her hands as if expecting them to change into utensils in front of her.</p><p>“I thought I was a person,” she murmured in a reverent, hallowed tone. Santana held her hand again. Why were those two always at the center of Rachel’s vision? It must have been just because they were sitting directly across from her. And the red of those cheerleading uniforms drew the eye in that direction anyway. Of course that would be it. The room slipped back into silence again. </p><p>“I’m not going to bother with this,” Quinn said, gaze fixed so firmly on Rachel that she briefly wondered if anything else existed, if somehow in the past few seconds the rest of the world had gone somewhere else and the room now consisted of just the two of them. She stood up, then, pushing back her chair and appearing to ignore the awful screeching sound it somehow managed to make on the carpeted floor. Everyone looked at her, watched her leave, and nobody moved to stop her. </p><p>“Someone’s in denial,” Kurt singsonged, and Rachel bristled.</p><p><em>“We</em> did that to her!” </p><p><em>“We</em> didn’t do anything. She’s made up her own mind. Only thing you can change now is what you do about it.” The bell rang, shrill and so loud even in this tiny space. Some things reached you no matter what. The room started to empty, slow and steadily, until it started to feel vacant again. “So? Your co-president can take it from here. I think Brittany wanted to talk afterwards about something.”</p><p>“You’re like a bloodhound for gay people.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Then, not unkindly but definitely with more force than the action warranted, he shoved Rachel out of her seat. “Now go and talk to her. It’s nice in here. I’d hate it if the GayLesbAll got disbanded after one meeting.” </p><p>“Fine.” Rachel staggered to her feet, knowing full well that if she used the table for support she’d more than likely send the whole thing toppling to the ground. “You can’t have the snacks, by the way. Those are for next week.” </p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it. Those things are ninety percent salt and ten percent chemicals.”</p><p>“See you in Glee Club, Kurt.” Rachel held the door in place just long enough to get it to unlock, then started on her way.</p><p>“We have English together fifth period.” Kurt pushed the chairs back in place. Rachel started down the hallway, past the copy machine, past the streams of students heading to their next class. “Rachel? Rachel, we’ve sat like two seats apart all year! We were partners in that collaborative essay thing? How did you <em>already</em> forget that? Rachel!” </p><p>***</p><p>Quinn spun the dial on her locker, mostly for the sake of feeling the cold shock of the thing under her fingers. A <em>GayLesbAll.</em> Did they all <em>want</em> to get bullied? And of course Finn and everyone else had gone along with it, all of them so desperate for Mr. Schue’s approval. Not that she was one to talk - she had no qualms about acknowledging why she’d started this, the intoxication of Coach Sylvester telling her she was doing a <em>good job.</em> Never mind that it'd all been for naught.</p><p>None of that explained her shaking fingers, messing with the combination and frustrating her to no end. What did Rachel think would happen? At best she was doing this for college applications, yet another straight girl worming her way into some place she didn’t belong. At worst she was- well. Quinn didn’t want to consider <em>at worst.</em> No use in that! She tried the lock again.</p><p>“Need help with that?”</p><p><em>Speak of the Type-A overachiever,</em> Quinn thought, <em>and she’ll appear.</em> Rachel Berry stood a few feet away, her stupid clipboard still clasped in her hands. “What do you want?”</p><p>“You walked out. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”</p><p>“Just needed to get a head start on picking things up.” The lock clicked in protest. Rachel glanced at it, a silent request for permission. Quinn reluctantly stood aside. “It’s 307-21-94,” she said. “But it’s been sticking.” Rachel tried it anyway, and the door swung open. She stood so close, close enough that Quinn could make out the individual stitches on her sweater, close enough that she could breathe her in if she so desired. “Don’t start stealing my things, now.” </p><p>“We all have the same textbooks.” Rachel stepped back anyway. “Unless you’re hiding something else in there.”</p><p>“Yeah, all my secret illegal crime documents. Closely guarded Cheerios strategies. A live cobra.” Quinn paused. “You don’t know what I have in here.”</p><p>“To be sure.” Rachel looked at the ground. “Leadership’s always come naturally to me. It’s good preparation for when I inevitably take on the leading role in at least one Broadway musical production and win the Tony, and I like to be in charge. But it’s not the same in every situation. So if you’ve got any suggestions for how to improve the GayLesbAll, I’d love to hear them.” Rachel took a deep breath. Lateral breathing. Quinn recognized the technique. “It’d mean a lot to Kurt.”</p><p>“Kurt. Right.” Quinn shut the locker door, and it narrowly missed her fingers. She was relieved she hadn’t slammed it on her hand, at least. Then Rachel would probably take her to the nurse and, like, <em>intimately hold ice on her hand or something.</em> And she was in no position to handle that. </p><p>“I guess I should get to class. I just wanted to make sure you were…alright.”</p><p>“And I’m fine. As you can tell.” Quinn mock-curtsied, then silently chided herself for doing so. What was she <em>doing?</em> Coach Sylvester would call it <em>fraternizing with the enemy.</em> Quinn wasn’t sure if she’d call Rachel an enemy, exactly, but whatever she was had to be something bad. Something to guard against. “So you can go now.”</p><p>“I’ll see you this afternoon.” Rachel started to walk away, still not quite looking at her. “Mr. Schue said we’re doing Elton John today.”</p><p>“Fitting.” Quinn smiled without teeth. </p><p>“Bye, Quinn.” Rachel waved, just a tiny little motion. Quinn was certain she’d be replaying it in her head the rest of the day, <em>damn her.</em> Before she could think to do anything else, Quinn waved back, and she walked back to class and did her very best not to consider the ramifications of her chest feeling all warm and nice and fuzzy. </p><p>She failed. Of course she did. And for once she didn’t mind that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh to be a repressed sapphic overachieving high school musician who wants to grow up too fast and at one point projects her confusing gay feelings onto her music advisor because he's unattainable. i've never watched another show with one of those or anything.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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